


Carry On Excalibur

by Su_Whisterfield



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27843649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Su_Whisterfield/pseuds/Su_Whisterfield
Summary: The story so far (this is all canon). In Excalibur 43, back in the halcyon days on 1991, Kurt and Brian have a long, lighthouse wreaking fight when Brian thinks Kurt is moving in on his girlfriend, Meggan. He’s wrong, while Kurt is very fond of Meggan, he’s too honourable to act on it.Brian manages to break Kurt’s leg.He gets hauled off by the Captain Britain Corps for causing grievous bodily harm on a denizen of Earth 616, who supposed to be under his protection. Meggan flies off in distress, Rachel goes after her, leaving now Kitty behind to look after Kurt, she mentions getting a first aid kit...Kitty, it’s going to take more than a first aid kit to fix this mess...
Relationships: Kitty Pryde & Kurt Wagner
Comments: 21
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [danke_rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/danke_rose/gifts).



Kitty looks down at the white and red first aid kit.  
Picks up her phone; a broken leg is a bit beyond an aspirin and a band-aid.

She’s not sure which of them she’s more annoyed with, Brian for being a block headed idiot or Kurt for being a block headed idiot _and_ stupid enough to engage with him? Or Meggan for being such a drippy drink of water? She sighs, no Meggan’s not to blame.  
Gah! Men!  
She picks up a knitted blanket, glares at Ferro and Thug, the only members of the Technet brave enough to be peeping around the door frame at her.  
“Clean this mess up!” They nod, meekly “Lockheed?” The dragon looks up at her. “Make sure they all behave.”  
Lockheed cocks his head, looks over at the two aliens and makes a very human snicker.  
Ferro and Thug exchange wary glances.  
She phases back out into the cold spray on the causeway, ready to tear another strip from both men’s hides if necessary.

And Kurt’s alone.  
Still holding his damaged leg, he’s starting to shiver with shock and cold, she unfolds the blanket around him.  
“Where’s Brian?” If he’s run off, like a coward or after Meggan and Rachel, she really will kill him.  
Kurt bows his head, he can read her mood. “I don’t know, _Kätzchen_ , a whole group of Captain Britains appeared and arrested him.” She can feel her eyebrows rising. But why should she be surprised? It’s been a crazy day and it’s not yet lunchtime, why shouldn’t it get crazier? “I’m sorry.”  
He keeps his head down, Kurt isn’t prone to being a macho idiot but he can be and he doesn’t half pick his moments. Her anger can’t stand up to the pain in his voice, she sits beside him, puts her arm around his broad shoulders, in the distance she can hear the helicopter from the Coast Guard.

They’re astonishingly professional, she thinks, as they lift Kurt onto the stretcher and winch it onto the hovering Sikorsky S-92, they don’t even blink at his appearance. She’s noticed this before, there are still haters over here in Britain, but somehow, she feels she can trust people like this, like the police or rescue services, to do their jobs. And it helps being a bit of a celebrity, a novelty. Britain doesn’t have anywhere near as many superheroes as the States, Brian is particularly popular. Even if he’s an ass. They’re all celebrities, which Kurt, the showman, takes in his stride, she and Rachel hate it, hate being on display, being in the spotlight, Meggan is thrilled, of course.

The chopper is loud, the down draft whipping up foam, it’s distinctly chilly, the two crew paramedics lift Kurt carefully but it clearly hurts and Kitty hates seeing him in pain. There are bruises starting to form on his face and hands, cuts too. She swallows. They should have stopped Brian sooner. The paramedics wrap him in a silver foil blanket.  
She air walks up to the open door as they winch him aboard, the medics glance at each other. It’s too loud for talking with the choppers blades whooshing overhead.

She holds Kurt’s hand as they soar over the countryside. He still feels cold. She clutches her phone in her other hand to stop herself from biting her nails, it’s a bad habit. They give her a headset so she can hear the crew. The medics are worried about Kurt’s blood pressure, a broken leg is a pretty big deal, she thinks.  
The pilot is talking to air traffic control, they’re being diverted, the hospital they were headed for is closed to further casualties.  
“No problem, WILCO.” The pilot has a rich, cut-glass accent, if anything, posher than Brian’s. She didn’t think it was possible to have a posher accent than Brian. The medic taps her arm, she wants Kurt’s hand to run an I.V. line. Kitty scoots back and goes to watch the pilot, to distract herself and get out of the way.  
The pilot turns to look at her, he has the most gorgeous blue eyes, they twinkle. Oh my, he’s handsome! He points at the controls as the chopper banks and makes a turn towards their new destination. “Hi there,” he points at the altimeter. “Complicated, isn’t it? That tells me how high we are.”  
“Yeah, I know, I’ve not flown this model, we usually use a S72. She’s quite nippy, does she handle well?”  
His eyebrows go up. “You’re a pilot?”  
“I’m an X-Man,” she doesn’t add, and ‘I’m probably smarter than you’. No matter the accent, she knows this doesn’t go down well with guys. “I’ve learned all sorts of useful things.”  
He grins at her, he really is very charming.  
The patchwork of small green fields and hedgerows before them has given way to rougher terrain, those are real mountains, one or two have snow. “Wow,” she’s impressed. “I didn’t know there were mountains like that in England?”  
He glances down, “Ah, that’s because we’re not in England anymore. That’s _Yr Wyddfa,_ Snowdon, were over Wales.” She’s puzzled, British geography _isn’t_ something the X-Men taught her. He looks a bit sheepish. “My Father, he’s the Prince of Wales, so one day I will be too.”  
Wow. She’d not expected to be picked up by a prince’s son. Talk about first class service. Doesn’t that make him a prince too? Or at least a lord or something? “Shouldn’t you have a white charger, rather than a ‘copter?”  
He groans and the medics both laugh, clearly an old joke.  
“We keep telling him that,” says the female medic over the headset. “We even offered to paint this bird white for him.”  
Kitty goes back to the stretcher where Kurt lies still, eyes scrunched shut, her good humour evaporates, she hates, absolutely hates seeing her friends hurt. She takes his hand again, he squeezes her fingers, his knuckles are swollen and bloody. She really, really wishes they’d stopped the fight sooner. She squeezes back. 

They land at a modern hospital in rolling grounds and there’s a flurry of activity.  
Kitty finds herself sidelined by the medics handing their patient over to the hospital staff, she follows them into the bowels of the building until they go through double doors and she’s not allowed any further.  
She grasps one of the nurses arms.  
“He has weird blood, you can’t give Kurt a transfusion.” The nurse looks at her. Nods.  
“Okay, I’ll make sure it goes in his notes.” Kitty breathes a sigh of relief. One of the first rules of the X-Men; look after each other’s backs and that means making sure medics know things like that. “His name’s Kurt? Okay, anything else we need to know?”  
“I don’t think so,” she suddenly, uncharacteristically unsure.  
“It’s okay, we’ll look after him” 

Abandoned, she sits on a hard plastic chair, her head is spinning with worry. She’s lost her team, her family, Kurt is all she has left. She wishes Rachel was here. Or Meggan. Or even Brian? No, she’s still furious with him. But she wishes she didn’t feel so alone.  
She glances over at the shiny plastic and metal doors they wheeled him through. How long ago? Half an hour? No, only fifteen minutes. The occasional nurse strides past, with purpose, but she stays in the corridor. They don’t need her, they’ll look after him.  
There’s a sign over the door. _Uned Ddamweiniau._ She scowls, rubs her eyes, expecting the writing to turn into English, like in a movie. It remains _Uned Ddamweiniau_.  
She looks at the wall opposite, gaudy with the usual health education posters, cartoon children and adults dance across them. But the writing on them isn’t English either. _Brechlyn Ffliw! Clinig Diabetes. Delio â Cholli Clyw._ She gets up and goes and scowls at the posters, as though they are deliberately there to confuse her. Up close, she can see the English translations as well. Oh. Ohh.  
Wales. The pilot was the son of the Prince of Wales. The posters are in the local language.

She keeps thinking of the pain in Kurt’s face, the cuts and grazes. Stupid, stupid, they should have stopped the fight, Brian is crazy strong, he could have killed him. Brian. Captain Britain. Local hero. Someone, sometime soon, is going to ask what happened. Going to ask Kurt or her who hit him. She’d better start thinking of an answer, preferably someone who isn’t a celebrity and hero of the realm.  
She realises that she’s still clutching her phone tight.  
And there’s also an important call she needs to make.  
She hits the fast-dial on her phone, takes a deep breath and puts on her best and brightest voice.  
“Hi, Moira...”

Well. That went as well as expected. Kitty hangs her head. She’s feeling somewhat... singed after her conversation with Doctor Moira MacTaggert, doctor, scientist, friend and ah, very forceful personality. Moira is less than impressed that Kurt (her favourite, she won’t admit it but everyone knows) is flat on his back in an NHS hospital with, at the very least, a broken femur.  
She and Sean are on their way down from Muir Island.  
Kitty had to spell the name of the hospital out. Twice. _Ysbyty Gwynedd._ No, she had no idea how to pronounce it either. Yes, it has a helipad. Yes, she will leave her phone on. Yes, she’s told them about Kurt’s blood.  
She also left Moira with the distinct impression that some Otherworld Captain Britain was responsible for the fight, most definitely not anyone called Brian. Hell hath no fury like Moira and a diplomatic incident between the Laird of a Scottish island and the English national superhero, by royal appointment, no less, would not be good. 

“Hiya,” a dark haired woman comes through the double doors with another taller woman in a navy blue uniform which looks like security. “Are you Kitty?”  
“Oh! Yes! Sure. Kurt, how is he? Can I see him? It he alright?” The words come tumbling out of her in a torrent. The woman, a nurse from her uniform, gestures the orange plastic chairs.  
“Let’s sit us down, eh?”  
“Please, is he okay?”  
“He’s fine, the doctors have finished working on him for now, but they’ve got a few questions and he’s a bit spaced out, from the pain relief we’ve given him.” Kitty finds the woman’s accent hard to follow, she speaks very quickly. Fine. She latches on to the word. Kurt is fine.  
“Fine. Good. Fine.”  
“My name is Anwen, I’m the ward sister,” her smile is gentle, her nurse manner unmistakable. “The doctors have a few questions about Kurt’s, ah, unusual physical characteristics.”  
For a second or two she doesn’t understand. Oh, _Kurt._ Who’s blue. And that’s the least of it. You just forget, she see him every day, she’s just used to how different he is, she doesn’t notice anymore. And it’s more than skin deep.  
“What do you need to know? He mustn’t have a transfusion.” The knot of anxiety tightens in her stomach. What if they’ve already given him blood?  
The nurse nods, “Yes, you told us about the blood. He doesn’t need any at the moment, but he might if he needs an operation to set the bone. ”  
“An operation?”  
“We’re waiting for the senior orthopaedic surgeon. It’s a simple break, but Kurt’s leg muscles are very strong, it might need a plate to hold the bone in place while it heals. Or it might not and he might get away with just a full leg cast. The surgeon will decide.”  
Oh. An operation. Her heart sinks. She has another sudden thought.  
“Do you need payment up front?” She left her purse at the Lighthouse, she’s no credit card with her.  
The nurse looks shocked. “Of course not!” She‘s heard Kitty‘s accent. “Is he American too?”  
Kitty shakes her head. “From Germany.” But she’s not quite sure, she knows Kurt’s paper identity came from Professor Xavier, he might have American citizenship?  
Anwen waves her hand. “European Union citizen, not a problem, we have the process for that,” she smiles at Kitty. “Emergency treatment is free anyway, if he does need to pay anything, we can sort it further down the line, don’t you fret. Now, are you sure there isn’t any other medical information we need?”  
“It would be best to speak to Moira.”  
“And who’s Moira?”  
“Moira MacTaggert, she’s Kurt’s doctor.”

She dials Moira’s number again and gives the phone over to Anwen.  
The half of the conversation she can hear tells us all she needs to know about Moira’s state of mind, the nurse gets talked at. Firmly. Kitty gives her an apologetic look. Sorry, she mouthes. Anwen winks at her, feisty doctors don’t hold any fear for her. At one point she asks the other woman for a notebook, jots some things down.  
Anwen gives her back the ‘phone. “Well, then, they’ll be here four hours, give or take. And Mr Thomas, the surgeon, will be a while yet, do you want to come and see your friend?”  
She nods, but the other, dark uniformed, woman speaks up, she has a name badge, _Heddlu_ , which isn’t a name Kitty recognises.  
“Can I have a quick word? Can you tell us what happened?”  
“What happened?” She feels stupid, repeating everything anyone says.  
“Your, friend, Kurt? He was assaulted, we need to know who attacked him, before they hurt someone else. I‘m a police officer,” she indicates her name badge. “ _Heddlu,_ police, see, I need to know what happened, if he wants to press charges against someone.”  
Oho. Kitty plasters a smile on her face, this could get tricky. “Oh, you know, superheroes, it’s one of the risks of the business.“ No one in America, particularly not the cops, ever showed any concern if any of the X-Men ended up being battered to pâté. “The rest of Excalibur are on to it, we‘ll make sure there’s no collateral damage.” She hopes. The woman doesn’t look happy and opens her mouth to speak again but Kitty grabs Anwen‘s arm. “Please, please can I see him?“

They show her into the quiet side room, its dim, there’s no window but there’s a light over the bed.  
Oh.  
Kurt looks _awful_ lying flat on his back. There’s something holding the blanket off his leg, but his cheek and lip swollen, dressings bright white against the blue, his knuckles bandaged. He looks worse than he did in the helicopter.  
There’s a nurse stood beside the bed, writing notes on a chart. “Hi, are you Kitty?”  
She nods, she can’t speak, if she does she’s going to burst into tears. The nurse can read her face. “I’m Menna, It’s not as bad as it looks, he’s a bit beaten up, but his leg is the only serious injury, come over here, sit down, you can hold his hand. He had something for the pain, so he’s mostly asleep.”  
She does as instructed, sitting on the hard wood and plastic wing chair beside the bed. He’s so still, the light over his head harsh and showing every bruise. Kurt is never still, always moving, fidgeting, smiling. Except... she remembers the long, miserable weeks on Muir Island when he lay there, still, breathing so shallow, deeply unconscious and unaware. And she couldn’t help him, all she could do was sit and watch, while Moira and her nurses looked after him, massaging his legs and arms, rolling him, clearing out his chest, keeping him alive until he came out of coma. It was one of the hardest times of her life, she felt helpless, lonely, unable to help, unable to solidify, caught like a ghost between worlds. Then she started to get better, staying solid, corporal, became easier. The nurses let her do simple things, like combing his hair, and it made her feel so much happier, being useful.  
It was so hard, being an X-Man was hard, but you always had each other, had each other’s back. She’s an only child, from a loving, stable home but with her X-family, she understood what a family could be, could do. That it could be more than blood, that if necessary, it could move mountains.  
And Kurt recovered, woke up, thanks to Moira’s hard work. The memory of hugging him, and him hugging her back. She was so happy. But the X-Men were gone. Are gone. Their family. All they had was each other. Bereaved. Heart-broken, both of them.  
The thought of losing him again makes her heartsick. She shakes her head. She’s not going to lose him, he’s a bit battered, but he will be fine.  
She wants to hold his hand, but there’s an I.V. line in his right hand, the knuckles on his left are swollen, she’s afraid she’ll hurt him, so she strokes the soft short fur on his forearm, avoiding the dressings, looks at his still face. Tears leak from her eyes.  
The nurse notices and passes a tissue from a table on the other side of the bed. She puts a pressure cuff on Kurt’s arm on the opposite side to where Kitty is sat, glances across. “You care for him very much, don’t you?” Her voice is gentle.  
“He’s...“ she searches for the right words, he’s my teammate, friend, brother, she dabs her eyes, crying doesn’t help. “Yeah, I do.” The nurse finishes with the pressure cuff, makes more notes on the chart. “I was scared of him,“ Kitty continues, quietly, almost to herself, remembering. “When I first met him, I was such a dumb kid.”  
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, he does look strange. Different.”  
“He’s the least strange of us,” she smiles at the nurse’s puzzled expression. It’s hard to explain to an outsider, to someone who doesn’t know him, doesn’t know them and what they do. But then, nurses, doctors, they have their own fraternity, they have their own support network, perhaps she does understand? “Being a superhero is a tough job, a thankless job. But it’s worth the pain, the fear, the fights, everything, because you get to do incredible things, fantastic things, you get to save the world.” She looks over at the nurse, suddenly seeing a kindred spirit. “And you work with the best people in the world. He’s kind and gentle and nice, but most of all, he’s really good at supporting everyone, at making sure that everyone else is okay.“  
“That is special,” the nurse heads for the door. “Look, this is the call button if you need anything, just give us a buzz.”  
Kitty nods and sits and watches her friend sleep.

Excalibur was a second chance, for both of them, but she’s still not sure it’s quite the same, that the bond is quite as strong? But there are positives, Kurt has grown into a capable, confident leader, no longer eclipsed by stronger, more forceful personalities. He doesn’t order them, he asks, he negotiates, it’s completely different to how Scott or Ororo lead, not better, not worse, just different.  
Rachel is growing too, regaining her sense of self, finding a place in a world not her own.  
It’s hard not to like Meggan, she’s not too bright and, loathe as she it to admit it, Kitty has always looked down on people she thought of as stupid. But Meggan’s kind, sweet natured, she thinks of other people, she’s the one who cooks or makes tea, coffee, she always asks if anyone else wants a drink. She likes others to be happy, it’s in part why she and Kurt get on so well.  
Brian is bright, very bright, clever, he’s not a musclebound idiot, just the reverse, but he’s too focused, too rigid, he needs someone like Meggan to fill in the hard, sharp spaces. They really do suit each other. Even if he’s an idiot.

Something warm moves under the green hospital blanket; Kurt’s tail. Kitty smiles. Special, he’s unique and special, sometimes that’s an advantage. She takes the soft, fleshy and most importantly, uninjured spade of his tail in her hand, it folds happily into her palm. She’s never quite figured out how much control Kurt has over it, not complete, she knows that, she’s seen it thrash in purely instinctive irritation, but he can hold things with it, manipulate things, even a sword. She tends to think of it in much the same way she thinks of Lockheed; more than a pet, less than an autonomous person.  
She strokes it, the fur is soft as the finest velvet. Suddenly she remembers Auntie Chuchie and her velvet jacket. Her great aunt is long gone but the memories of her are still warm and suddenly vivid, her hair piled in a ridiculous bee-hive, years out of fashion, the worn velvet jacket, faded from black to dark blue, her sharp, shrewd, kind eyes behind thick glasses. ‘They don’t make clothes like this these days, Katherine, not for love nor money. Silk velvet, this is, none of your nylon rubbish.’ Silk velvet, expensive and beautiful.  
She falls asleep holding his beautiful, unique tail.

“Hello there, lassie.” A quiet, warm voice wakes her from a doze.  
“Sean!” She throws herself into his arms, as always, he smells of woodsmoke and his pipe tobacco, solid, dependable, safe. He hugs her close. “Where’s Moira?”  
“Havin’ a chinwag with the big boss man over what they’re gonna do with our lad. How is he?”  
She pulls back out of his embrace and Sean goes over to the bed. “Kurt? Hiya, laddie.”  
Kurt’s eyes crack open, slightly. “Mm? Sean? _Kätzchen_? ” He moves on the bed. “Ow.”  
“You stay put!“ Kitty admonishes.  
He nods, closes his eyes, puts his battered hand over them. “Hi, Sean.”  
“Hiya, lad, you been wrestling elephants or something?”  
He opens his mouth to reply, all Kitty’s international alarms go off; don’t say Brian, please, don’t say Brian hit you, but then the door to the corridor opens and Moira breezes in, like a small determined whirlwind, she‘s followed by Anwen.  
She storms over to the bed, looks down at Kurt.  
“Hi, Moira,” he sounds tired.  
“Oh, laddie,” she crosses her arms, glares, anger, concern and affection clearly at war within her. “What the hell do’yer think yer up to? Brawling like some stupid street fighter? Look at the mess you’re in.” Anger wins, game set and match. Kurt bows his head. She draws breath for another round but Anwen cuts her off.  
“And that’s enough of that, thank you. You’re upsetting my patient.” She snags the flipchart of notes from the bottom of the bed. “Out, the both of you.” She expertly chivvies Moira and Sean out the door.  
“Saved.” Kurt murmurs.  
“Temporary reprieve, you know Moira won’t give in that easily.”  
He sighs. “No, no she won’t.”  
“Please, Kurt, don’t tell her what happened.”  
He looks over at her. “Why...” she sees the penny drop. “Ohh.”  
“She’ll kill him.”  
“She wouldn’t...”  
“Kurt, it’s _Moira_!”  
He’s clearly having trouble with the idea that the diminutive doctor would actually do Brian bodily harm. But he knows she could cause him no end of trouble.  
“What do I say if she asks me? When she asks me?”  
Kitty pinches her nose. “I told the police that an Otherworld Captain Britain attacked us and that the rest of Excalibur have gone after him.”  
“Police?” He tries to sit up, fails and lies back with a groan.  
“Relax, Fuzzy. They’re here to protect you, you’re the victim.”  
He tilts his head. “Ohh.”  
“Yes, ‘ohh’ and we don’t really want an arrest warrant out on Brian. Do we?” She has a sudden moment of panic; what if Kurt _does_ want Brian punished? The police were correct; someone bigger and stronger than him assaulted him, it’s his right.  
“No, of course not. I’m as much to blame as him.”  
“You’re not, you’re really not,” she squeezes his hand. But it would be the end of Excalibur if he did want to press charges. “I... I mean I‘d understand if you do, I’d support you if that’s...”  
He kisses her fingers with a swollen lip. “I don’t want that _Kätzchen_ , Excalibur is our team, our family now.”  
She hugs him, gently, very aware of all the bruises. Family. Not just co-workers. family. It’s an important distinction.

There’s a clatter in the corridor outside.  
“What on earth...”  
She phases her head through the door.  
It’s mayhem out there. Press, police, nurses, Anwen ordering them out. Moira is arguing with a grey haired man in a old fashioned suit, a foot taller than her. A stray bed pan whistles over her head, Kitty doesn’t wait to see if it’s full or not, she ducks back inside.  
“I think you’ve caused a riot.”  
“Oh dear.” Kurt says, dreamily, as the pump attached to the I.V. line on his arm whirs quietly. She’s losing him to the drugs again, she kisses his forehead, gets a sleepy smile and she goes back to holding his tail, she’ll stay there until he’s better, for as long as it takes. Because he’s her family.


	2. Carry On Too

“Lassie?” Sean’s hand is gently shaking her.  
“Mm? Oh, Sean.” Everything is quiet, Kurt’s still sleeping, there’s no noise from the corridor. “What time is it?”  
He glances at his watch. “Hm, getting on for ten. Time we were goin’. There’s a Travelodge in Bangor, the taxi will be here soon.”  
“I’ll stay here,” she smiles at him. The chair isn’t exactly comfortable but it isn’t the first time she’s sat up all night by someone’s bedside.  
“Ah, sorry, lassie, you’re coming with.”  
She looks up at him, mouth open to argue, but Moira and the ward sister, Anwen are behind him.  
“Kurt’s fine here, it’s well past visiting hours, we’ve imposed on sister’s hospitality quite enough for one evening.” There’s no arguing with Moira.  
“I’ll open the blinds so the nurses on the duty desk can see into the room,” Anwen says, gently. “We’ll look after him for you.”  
Kitty nods, but she’s reluctant to leave Kurt behind, she knows he’s safe here, she knows he’ll be okay. But, but, but.  
“We’ve got your phone number,” Anwen assures her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

One of the orderlies show them a side door out of the hospital, the police have banished the press but they’re taking no chances. Kitty shivers, it’s cold and dark, rain in the wind.  
“Didn’t you bring a coat?“ Sean asks, she shakes her head. “No coat, not purse? Really, lassie, I thought we trained you better than that,” he teases, gently.  
“Well I was had other things on my mind,” she snaps, suddenly, unreasonably, furious. “I had Kurt to worry about.”  
“Kitty!” Moira’s voice is sharp. “Stop it.“  
“Stop what?”  
“You’re not the only one who cares about him. He’s fine. He’s an idiot, but he’s fine.”  
“But he might not have been!“  
“No, he might not have been, he could have torn his femoral artery and bled to death. Or had any one of a dozen serious complications.” They stand nose to nose, like a pair of cats, Kitty can feel herself shaking, she wants to turn and run back into the building, back into the quiet room, back to the calm gentle presence of her best friend and her rock.  
“You don’t understand!” They don’t, they can’t. “I lost them all, he’s all I’ve got left!”  
“You’re not the only one who loved them, who loves him. People died during the Massacre, they died because I saved Kurt, because I chose him over them, don’t you dare to think I don’t care!” Moira snaps back.  
Sean touches her arm. “Love?”  
She draws a sharp breath through her nose and closes her eyes. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I’m tired, it’s been a long day.”  
Kitty wraps her arms around herself. The wind throws cold rain in their faces, reflects in the lights of the taxi pulling up next to them.

Kitty sits in the back of the taxi, watching the rain run down the window. It’s dark and cold, inside and out. Moira sits at the other end of the seat, also looking out at the night. Sean and the taxi driver are chatting in the front of the car.  
“Bit of a fuss over there today, eh?” The driver has a thick accent.  
“Ay, so I hear.” Sean is deliberately noncommittal.  
“Police, helicopters, sooperheroes, them there paparazzi,” he shakes his head. “No call for it.“  
“I’m sure it’s all a storm in a teacup.” Sean says, soothing.  
“They were pokin’ about after our Philip‘s lad, nuthin’ but trouble.”  
“What did superheroes want with him?” Kitty can feel Moira‘s interest as they both tune into the conversation. Have they stumbled across an unknown mutant?  
“Nah, not the soopheroes, heddlu, the police,” he pronounces it ‘pliss’. “You know what lads are like with their cars, there’s no harm in it.” Moira sighs and leans back in her seat, false alarm, Kitty smiles a secret smile; people go on living their lives, oblivious to the drama, the danger, going on around them, it’s safer that way.

The hotel isn’t far, next to a main road, there’s a petrol station and a Burger King, but it’s all quiet at this time of night. It’s pretty basic, like a motel, it only has double rooms, there’s no concierge, no food other than vending machines, Sean and Moira have one room, Kitty in the one next door.  
The bed is huge and it’s clean and warm, she’s slept in much worse places. She has a hot shower, uses the generic shampoo in the bottle on the wall, the water pressure is good and hot water is limitless, she stands under the warm cascade for ages, letting it wash away some of her tension. She washes her bra and panties in the sink, puts them over the shower rail, they‘ll dry by morning. She wonders if one of the vending machines has a toothbrush and paste as well as the chocolate bars and cans of overpriced soda? Wrapped in the huge white towels, she’s not sure she can be bothered to get dressed again to go check.  
She lies back on the bed. Stares at the ceiling, she’s exhausted, but not tired. She wonders where Rachel and Meggan are? Brian? She wonders how much trouble the Technet have got into? She wonders if Kurt has realised she’s gone...

There’s a knock on the door, she looks through the spy hole; it’s Sean, he holds up the bag with the Burger King logo on it.  
Kitty sits on the bed, swathed in towels like a mummy while Sean sits on the single chair. She hadn’t realised quite how hungry she was, all she’s had all day was a rather sad cheese sandwich the nurses had found for her.  
“Mm, oh, man that’s so good.” Sean laughs at her ecstatic response to limp fries, a burger and chocolate shake. She feels much better after eating it. “I need say sorry to Moira,” she says quietly.  
“Aye, lassie.” Sean bundles up the empty cardboard containers. “I think perhaps ye both need to say sorry to each other. But it’ll wait until morning,” he passes over another bag. “We thought you might need these too, it was slim pickin’s, just what the petrol station had,” he gets up and gives her a fatherly kiss on the cheek. “See you in the mornin’, lassie.”  
“Goodnight, Sean.” He goes out and moments later she hears the door open to the next room and the quiet sound of his conversation with Moira.  
She looks in the bag; toothpaste and brush, a comb, deodorant and a large cotton hoodie, dark green with a red dragon embroidered on the left breast. She smiles, then laughs; under the hoodie is a soft toy, a plush red dragon, ‘WALES’ embroidered on its side in green and white stitching. It’s not purple and not quite as big as Lockheed, but it will do. She falls asleep cuddling it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so maybe I haven’t finished this, I thought I had, but evidently not.  
> There’s a third chapter brewing too, because we all want to see Kurt charming his nurses in Welsh, don’t we?


	3. In which Kitty gets to eat All The Food

Kitty and Sean have breakfast in a diner, an honest to goodness diner, next to the motel. It has American pancakes with maple syrup and blueberries. It’s a taste of home, Kitty is completely delighted; she had no idea that there were such places in Britain. It’s quite busy, mostly hauliers and sales reps all having a hearty fried breakfast, they have a booth to themselves.  
“Mm,” she chases an errant blueberry around the plate. “Why on earth didn’t Brian tell me that there were diners here?”  
Sean laughs. “I don’t think a posh bloke like our Bri has much use for this kinda food, lass.”  
“Huh, I suppose not, he’s more likely to want to eat at some fancy restaurant, but I bet Meggan would love it. When can we go back to the hospital?”  
“Not for hours yet, visiting times are limited.”  
She bites back a sigh of irritation. “I suppose Moira’s already there?”  
Sean looks surprised. “Nay, lass, she‘s having a shower, she‘ll be here shortly. They won’t let her just waltz in, you know, she may be a doctor but it’s not her hospital, not her place. The ward sister was very kind yesterday to let us stay as long as we did and the orthopaedic surgeon is aware that she’s the expert on Kurt’s unusual physical needs.“  
“I’m sorry I upset her, Sean, I was tired and hungry and...”  
“I know,” Sean says, gently.  
“I‘m sorry, too.” Moira slides into the booth next to her partner. She reaches over and pats Kitty’s hand across the formica table. “Over-tired and under-caffeinated. I’m glad the sweatshirt fits.”  
Kitty smiles across at the older woman. “I love it, and the dragon!“  
“There’s dragons everywhere,“ Sean says. “Local wildlife.” He waves and the waitress comes across to take Moira’s order. He has a couple of leaflets about the local town, it has a pier, a cathedral and a university.

The rain has blown over but it’s cold and Kitty is very glad of the warm sweatshirt. It’s not really a resort town, she thinks as the wander through the streets, but a town which just happens to be on the coast. City, she corrects herself, it’s a city. It’s a tiny city. There are tourist shops, most shut as it’s the end of the season, but also places catering to the student population; pizza and fast food take-aways, also mostly closed until the evening. Computer repair shops and plenty of places selling walking and hiking gear, the mountains loom behind them, they go in one of the computer shops and buy her a generic charger cable for her phone; she’s down to ten percent charge.  
When they reach the seafront, it isn’t; there’s land opposite, less than a mile away. They check the tourist map Sean picked up: ‘Menai Straits, one of the most treacherous waterways in the world‘ it tells them, helpfully, opposite is ‘The Isle of Anglesey -home of the Druids’. Wow. The pier stretches out across towards the opposite side of the Strait. It’s old, wrought iron and wood, there are people walking along it, bundled up, enjoying the fresh air, they join them.

The wood flexes underfoot and there are small gaps in the boardwalk, Kitty finds it slightly alarming but Sean and Moira don’t seem to notice. There are little cabins of glass and wood set along it, all closed up. It’s quaint, slightly shabby but it’s real, she thinks, not commercial, it’s for real people who don’t mind a bit of rust here and there, who don’t expect everything to be plastic and perfect. She likes it. The other walkers will assume Sean and Moira are her parents? Definitely that they are family. She quite likes that idea too.  
Sean falls back, fritzing with his pipe in the wind, she and Moira pull ahead.  
“When the Marauders attacked the Morlock tunnels, when you and Peter and Kurt were injured, I don’t know how much of this you remember?” Moira’s voice is quiet.  
“Not all of it, it was difficult to concentrate, to connect.”  
“I know, you were badly hurt too. Illyana brought myself and Sharon from Muir Island to the Mansion. Kurt was the first patient I worked on,” she looks out across the Strait, dark auburn hair whipped by the wind. “He was very seriously injured, Kitty, very bad.”  
“I remember all the blood...”  
“He was dying. And I kept working on him, kept clamping the arteries, kept fighting for him,” she keeps her eyes on the choppy water. “I should have stopped, should have let him go...”  
Kitty’s aghast, horrified, she opens her mouth to interrupt, to argue in Kurt’s defence, but Moira keeps speaking, to herself as much as Kitty. For Moira, it’s clearly still upsetting her.  
“Triage, Sharon was running triage and there were so many injured, so many dying., so many who needed me. I should have left him, should have let him go. How many other lives could I have saved, three? Four, five or more? They all slipped away. Because there was only me, only one doctor. And I was prioritising a friend over them,” she looks at Kitty. “It was unprofessional, it was unethical, it was against my every experience as a doctor.“ He eyes are full of tears and Kitty puts her arms around her, Moira hugs her back. “And, lord help me, if I had to do it again I would.”  
“Thank you.” Kitty says, softly.  
“Oh, lassie, I’m sorry, you don’t need to hear my woes,” she sighs. “But I wanted you to know, he’s special to me too.“  
Sean has rejoined them, he rests his hand on her arm “It was an impossible situation, love. If you’d had half the resources at that hospital, more staff, more beds, that’s what would really have made the difference, there was only one of you. You could only do so much.”  
“I know, Sean, I know, but it still plays on my mind.”  
Kitty backs off, gives them some privacy. The tide is receding, leaving behind mudflats. Black and white birds with long beaks are descending, on the hunt for shellfish, she guesses? She grew up a long way from the sea, it’s a bit of a mystery to her.

When you were a kid, she muses, you always thought your parents and the other adults around you had all the answers, as you got older, you realised that they didn’t. But you still assumed that the experts, the doctors, the professors still did, that they were wiser, cleverer than everyone else. Perhaps they were just fumbling along like her and everyone else?

It starts raining again, they retreat to a cafe, a tea-room, Sean calls it.  
It’s snug and warm after the pier. There are a couple of students working on laptops, but mostly it’s filled with young mums with babies and toddlers and older people, in ones or twos. The coffee isn’t very good, Moira and Sean share a pot of tea, which looks stronger and darker than the insipid coffee. Kitty is puzzled by the scone Sean orders for her. It comes with jam and cream. It’s warm from the oven, she nibbles a corner, the texture is dry, not very sweet, he laughs at the dubious look on her face.  
“Not like that,” he points to the little pot of jam and the blue and white tub of cream. “You need to put those on the scone.”  
“Jam first or cream?” she asks, innocently.  
“Hah, there are counties England where they’ll go to war over that question.“  
She really doesn’t understand, Moira shakes her head. “Don’t tease her. Don’t worry Kitty, you’re in Wales, English laws don’t apply here.” Kitty isn’t sure if she’s joking. Moira splits her scone expertly and puts ample jam and cream on one side and cream and jam on the other, Kitty follows suit, the addition of the toppings much improves the experience, she decides, the cream is astonishing, rich and yellow with butterfat, it’s nicer, and richer, than any cream she’s ever had before. 

She listens to the muted voices washing like the tide around their table, mostly in the local language, it’s lyrical, she thinks, like music. As different as Moira’s accent is to Sean‘s. They’re a thirty minute helicopter ride from the Lighthouse, but it’s another country, wild.  
Nice, honest, decent, local people.  
You can’t go back again. She’s done too much, seen too much, aliens, demons. She’s been into space, really out there, not just in near earth orbit. She‘s seen and done things these nice ordinary people could only dream of. She loves it, but it‘s a double edged sword, now she knows what she knows, she can never go back to just being that gawky little Jewish schoolgirl from Chicago. She can pretend, sitting here with Sean and Moira, but she knows in her heart that she will always be a superhero now, it will always be her job to protect people like this so they can go on living their normal, mundane lives in peace and safety. 

Sean has bought a copy of the local paper, he snickers and turns it around so she can read it.  
The North Wales Post is emblazoned along the top. The headline reads ‘English Superhero Rescued By Duke of Cambs!!!’ There are stock photos of the Duke in his R.A.F outfit, and of the outside of the hospital and a group shot of Excalibur. She recognises the Duke immediately, that lovely smile, the blue eyes. Kitty scans the text, it’s very generic, there’s a brief press statement from the hospital about patient privacy and not confirming or denying anything, clearly the reporters didn’t get anything juicy out of Anwen’s staff, she’s not surprised, nice as the ward sister had been to them, Kitty wouldn’t have wanted to annoy her. It’s such a novelty, not having to hide, not being outlaws, Excalibur is above board, she doesn’t think she‘ll ever quite get used to it.  
“Wonder what Kurt will have to say about being English now?“ She laughs.  
Moira looks at her watch. “Why don’t we go see?”

It’s the same taxi driver as the previous night. He greets them like they’re old friends.

Conwy Ward is quite and orderly, Menna is at the nurses station as they go in, she recognises them.  
“Why hello there,” she smiles. “Here to see our star patient.”  
“Oh, aye,” Sean laughs. “How much trouble has he been?”  
“Not much at all, he’s in traction so he’s tied to the bed. But he’s feeling better. You saw the local paper?“ Sean waves their copy at her. “Now’t but trouble they are, poking their noses into other people’s business.” She shows them into the side room.  
Kurt’s still flat on his back, his leg covered by a frame to keep the blankets off it but he’s awake, there’s no drips or medical paraphernalia and his face breaks into a huge smile when he sees his visitors. “ _Prynhawn da_!” He declares. “That’s good afternoon, _Kätzchen_.” He beams at her. Still stoned, she thinks, but she gives him a hug; it’s such a relief to see him looking more himself.  
“Another language? How many is that now? Five? Greedy!” Kurt has a real aptitude for languages, not as good as Doug was, but through his childhood exposure to all those different cultures, he still seems to pick the basics up easily. She’s just a bit envious of that, she’s tried but she just doesn’t have the knack, which is frustrating, she’s used to being the cleverest one.  
“Natural talent,” he smirks.  
“Careful, one more and you‘ll run out of fingers to count them on.” He sticks his tongue out at her, they both know that numbers aren’t his strong point.  
“You made the papers.” Sean says, passing the newspaper over, Kurt’s eyes go round and he takes it to read. Moira is looking at his notes at the foot of the bed, she makes an approving noise.  
Sean goes off in search of more reading matter for Kurt at the hospital newsagents, Moira in search of Anwen. Kitty sits on the chair, she‘d like to sit on the bed but she’s scared she might joggle his bad leg. He senses her worry, takes her hand.  
“I’m fine, really. I’m sorry I scared you.”  
She squeezes his strong, steady fingers. “I forgive you, this time.” He beings her fingers up to his mouth and gently kisses them. 

“Good news.” Moira breezes in with the ward sister, “You’ve got away with it.”  
“With what?“  
“No operation, you’re incredibly lucky.” Anwen confirms. “Most breaks to the femur need stabilisation with pins but this is a hairline fracture.”  
“Humph, we’ll see how lucky you feel with a full leg cast for a couple of months.” Moira says, darkly.  
“Full leg?” Kurt queries.  
“Uh huh, hip to toe,” she crosses her arms. “That’ll slow you down for a bit.”

Sean returns with a couple of magazines and chocolate bars and they spend a few hours entertaining the patient. Moira disappears to speak to the orthopaedic team. There’s a constant stream of nurses, young, old, pretty, not so pretty, men and women, they all get Kurt’s megawatt smile and he happily practices his Welsh on them and they are enchanted by him. Kitty sits and watches, it’s so easy to him, he’s good at reading people, he handles the young women completely different to the maternal matrons, the guys to the women, but he makes them all feel special, he remembers names, he makes small talk about children, spouses, rugby (she has no clue what rugby is, possibly a religion?). He’s been here for all of twenty four hours, most of it drugged unconscious and he still fits in. It’s so sad; people judge him by what he looks like but as soon as they get to know him, no matter how briefly, they like him.  
They leave mid afternoon, Moira and the orthopaedic team have a plan and with good luck, they’ll be taking Kurt home tomorrow. It’s the same taxi driver, they’re on first name terms (he’s called Huw) and Kitty is starting to suspect that he has the only taxi in town. He takes them back to the motel and picks them up later to deliver then to a restaurant in town. Kitty feels nervous and underdressed but both Sean and Moira assure her that no one will notice, it’s an Indian restaurant and that makes her all the more worried, she’s just not used to that cuisine.  
It’s great fun. The staff find her accent charming, they help her choose a mild curry, chicken pasanda and introduce her to mango lassi; drinking yoghurt. Moira is as relaxed as Kitty has ever seen her and Sean is an endless source of fun stories but she’s not quite sure she believes him when he gets to the X-Men working with leprechauns at Cassidy Keep!  
He tells her about the early days at the Mansion, of being attacked by demons and Moira grabbing a machine gun. Of them all helping to decorate Ororo’s attic, Jean taking Kurt to a theatre store to buy clothes, of the days when they only knew their grumpy Canadian as Wolverine, mostly because no one dared ask his name.  
She misses them all. She knows she always will, but she doesn’t want to be miserable, doesn’t want to get lost in melancholy so she tells them about bopping about the multiverse on a dragon powered train.  
“And Kurt’s a good leader for Excalibur, better than he was with the X-Men.”  
“Different dynamics,” Sean nods.  
“Fewer overgrown egos,” Moira sniffs.  
“Kurt’s alway been good at organising, people, things, events.” Sean adds. “He enjoys it, Excalibur is a good fit for him.”  
Kitty pushes her banana fritter into the last of the kulfi. “And I don’t think anyone else wanted it,” yummy, she approves of Indian cuisine. “I was watching him charm the nurses today, it comes naturally to him, doesn’t it?”  
“There are different styles of leadership, lassie, it’s not that one is better than the other, sometimes you need different tactics with different people too. And you can learn to do it, if you have the right teacher.”  
“And better him than Brian,” Moira says icily. Uh-oh, Kitty doesn’t like that tone of voice. “When were you going to tell me?”  
She drags the spoon through the congealing syrup on her plate, meets Moira’s keen eyes. “It wasn’t just Brian...”  
“Oh, I‘m nay daft, Katherine, I know what those cuts on Kurt’s knuckles mean and he’s not exactly a fragile little flower, I’ll be having words with him and Mr Braddock both.“  
“Kurt told you?”  
“Painkillers and muscle relaxants; it’s like giving him catnip, all I had to do was ask. I know you love him, Kitty, he’s very loveable, he’s also a goddamn idiot, the pair of them are.” She wipes her mouth with a napkin. “It’s not you I’m annoyed at, you did a fantastic job, calling the Coast Guard, getting him to hospital; that was leadership too. As is protecting him from me. But I’m still going to be having words, fighting over poor wee Meggan, as though she was a trophy to be had.”  
Sean pats her hand. “Wait ‘til the laddie’s on the mend, will ya?”  
“Hmm.” Moira makes no promises.

Huw drives them back to the motel, through the rain.

Kitty sleeps well that night, cuddling her substitute dragon.

The taxi driver takes them one last time back to the hospital. “There’s reporters out the front again.” He warns them, as he drops them at the side entrance, he gives them his cheery wave as he drives off. 

Anwen is at the nurses station.  
“Oh, hullo,“ she smiles. “Here for you lost lamb?”  
“If you’ll let us?”  
“Just some paperwork, then he‘s all yours. Hopefully the reporters will bugger off too.”  
“How do they know he’s still here?” Kitty asks as she and Sean head for Kurt’s room.  
“The Muir Island ‘copter is still on the pad here and it’s a small place, Kurt’s the most interesting thing to happen for months. Aren’t you lad?”  
Kurt looks up as they enter his room. “Aren’t I what?” He smiles at them. He’s sat in a wheelchair by the bed, his right leg stuck out before him in a huge, stark white plaster cast. There’s a woman Kitty doesn’t recognise sat on the chair by his bed. “Sean, Kitty, this is Cerys, she’s a physiotherapist.”  
Sean shakes the woman‘s hand. “Pleased to meet‘cha. You giving him his marchin‘ orders?”  
She smiles and waves a sheaf of papers. “Exercises, lots of them, and you will do them, won‘t you, Mr Wagner?”  
“I promise,” he nods, earnestly. Cerys tilts her head and regards him, she passes the notes over to Kitty.  
“You’re in charge of making sure he does,” she gives Kitty a conspiratorial wink.  
“I can do that.”  
“Hey,” Kurt complains. “Don’t I get a say in this?”  
“No!” Cerys and Kitty reply in unison.

Sean pushes the wheelchair, despite Kurt’s complaints that he’s _sure_ he could walk if they gave him a stick. Kitty is door opening duty, she dumps the toy dragon on his lap.  
There’s quite a fan club gathered around the nurses station.  
“ _Diolch yn fawr iawn!_ All of you, thank you so much.” Kurt looks up at Anwen, the nurses, the orderlies, the physio.  
“Now then, you look after that leg, right?” Anwen commands. “No more fights, keep the plaster dry, do your exercises, take it easy.”  
“Yes, ma’m,“ he sighs meekly.  
She comes with them out to the helicopter pad, Kitty isn’t sure that providing escort is part of the ward sister’s duty, but she’s as under Kurt’s spell as much as any of her staff, when she helps him out of the wheelchair, hands him a walking stick, he thanks her again, with his usual charm and kisses her hand. He leans on Sean but manages the steps up into the ‘copter with surprising ease; his arms are strong, used to supporting his weight.

They wave at Anwen as they rise up into the air and the hospital gets smaller beneath them, Kitty smiles and relaxes, they’re flying back to the world she knows, where she feels comfortable, she understands the rules, knows her place, knows the language! They’re hugging the coast, the waves grey and green beneath them.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come up to Muir Island for a week or two?” Moira asks Kurt.  
“ _Nein_ , Moira, I’ll be fine at the lighthouse.”  
“All those stairs?”  
He grins at her. “Not a problem, trust me.”

Moira and Sean look up at the Lighthouse. The Technet have been busy.  
“Well, that’s certainly... something.” Sean says, tactfully.  
“Does it have planning permission?” Moira doesn’t look convinced.  
There’s a mushroom shaped addition to the top of the lighthouse and the sound of banging comes from within. Lockheed flies out with a happy cry and launches himself at Kitty.  
“Ah, who’s a clever dragon? You kept them all in line?“ Lockheed coos, settling on her shoulder like an oversized parrot, preening, he lets Sean scratch him behind his ear.

Kurt, walking with the stick, introduces the Technet, they boil like excited, over-sized puppies, around them, neither Moira nor Sean are fazed by the wild variety of the Technet’s shapes and sizes, it reconfirms Kitty’s feeling of being back in the world she belongs in. They’re eager to show off what they‘ve been doing, including the null-grav elevator.  
“See, Moira, no stairs to worry about.” Kurt waves his stick at it, she’s still not looking convinced but doesn’t argue.  
The kitchen has been restored, the bathroom too, the electronics up and running, including new computers (Kitty does _not_ ask where the new kit has come from, she’ll worry about that later, the one thing the Technet are is resourceful. And light fingered...) it’s all habitable again.

Kitty comes out onto the steps at the foot of the lighthouse, Kurt and Moira are having the threatened conversation out on the causeway.  
She watches them, cautiously. Moira doesn’t raise her voice, which, if anything, makes her even scarier, Kurt bows his head and accepts the scolding. She takes his head in both her hands and reaches up to kiss him on the forehead, she has to stand on tiptoe, Kurt folds her into an embrace.  
Sean is leaning on the rail at Kitty’s elbow.  
“She loves him very much.”  
“Aye, lass, she always has, even before the Massacre,” he chews on his unlit pipe. “She had a laddie of her own, you know, he'd have been about Kurt‘s age, she looks at him and sees what might have been.”  
Kitty suddenly understands, Moira isn’t angry. Well, not very. She’s just doing her best to look after Kurt, to look after them all, because that’s what she does, that’s her role in this dangerous, confusing world. Not going out and hitting villains, but being their back up. She just does it in a rather scary way.  
“Let‘s go rescue him,” Sean smiles and they go join the pair below.

Kurt and Kitty stand, shoulder to shoulder, on the causeway and wave the helicopter off, then, glance at each other. It’s just the two them.  
The two of them, nine aliens and two dragons, obviously.  
“I want a warm cocoa, race you back upstairs,” she grins, a hip to toe plaster cast will act as a handicap and slow him down to a more reasonable level of energy.  
Kurt‘s toothy grin hangs in the air for a moment after he disappears in a BAMF! of purple smoke.  
“Hey, not fair!” She yells and starts to air walk up the outside of the lighthouse after him. When she gets to the kitchen, he’s got a pan of milk on the new hob to warm and is searching the cupboards for the tin of cocoa, using his tail to stir the milk and stop it from boiling over. She leans in the doorway, she’s so happy to be home, because home is where her best friend is.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this in mind for ages, the working title is Moira VS the NHS.  
> I’m very fond of Kitty and Kurt’s friendship, but if you want to read this as romantic, feel free to.  
> Location: Chris and Alan seemed to be a bit woolly as to where they wanted the Excalibur lighthouse to be located, off the west coast of Britain, presumably Cornwall or Devon from the cliffs? But early on, Rachel and Kitty go shopping in Liverpool, which is a bit of a commute, when Bristol or even Cardiff would be nearer? So in this story, the lighthouse is off Hilbre Island on the Wirral, just a short hop from Liverpool.
> 
> Royal guest appearance. HRH Prince William was indeed a rescue helicopter pilot out of RAF Valley on Anglesey.
> 
> This should be read like an Excalibur comic, with that slight edge of absurdity, I was visualising Alan Davis drawing it through out.


End file.
